


Skill Sets

by misura



Category: Human Target (TV 2010)
Genre: Breakfast, Community: smallfandomfest, Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 17:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3258161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Let me get this straight," Winston says, speaking slowly. In need of coffee, probably. It's that time of day. "You're making ... vegetable omelets. Breakfast. In our kitchen."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skill Sets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gategirl7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gategirl7/gifts).



Guerrero knows approximately forty-seven-and-a-half ways of making someone talk without harming the fabled, proverbial single hair on their head, not including the ones where he gets them to talk by suggesting he does, in fact, intend to give them a very bad hair day.

He's not quite sure how many ways he knows of putting someone in considerable discomfort without impeding their ability to tell him things he wants to know (and things he's not particularly interested in hearing - like, he _knows_ it hurts, dude; he's the ones holding the pliers, after all. Or the garden shears. Or the whatever - the point is, point made).

It's a whatchamacallit kind of thing.

 

"What on Earth are you _doing_?" Winston asks, and if Guerrero had found ignorance and moral indignation endearing qualities, he'd be executing a hug-attack right about now.

Since he doesn't, he limits his response to a shrug. Winston's not in charge here.

"No, seriously." Winston _thinks_ he's in charge here, of course. It's a delusion that seems to suit Chance for some reason, possibly related to the need for someone to do the paperwork. 

Chance is not a paperwork kind of guy.

Guerrero doesn't hold it against Winston that _he_ is; it's a fact of life that everyone's got their thing. Live and let live, and all that. Judge not lest ye be judged.

"I asked you what you were doing." Winston raises his voice. "Are you even _listening_ to me?"

Guerrero is not impressed, but then, he never is. It's how he rolls. "Oh. Hey, dude. Didn't see you there." That last bit is, as they call it in the world of black ops and action heroes, complete and utter bullshit.

Winston knows this, of course. Winston is not an idiot, after all.

"Not answering my question, I note."

Guerrero shrugs again. He's in a kitchen; he's holding a non-professional knife, which might be put to professional use in a pinch, but not without a certain amount of risk. It kind of feels like an insult to point out the obvious, and it's kind of early in the day for that sort of stuff.

On the other hand, Guerrero's kind of got better things to do with his time than _not_ answer Winston's questions. "It's breakfast, dude. Vegetable omelets. Want some?"

Winston blinks, as if Guerrero offering him food is completely strange and unusual and perhaps even a little scary. Guerrero decides not to take offense at that last one.

"Let me get this straight," Winston says, speaking slowly. In need of coffee, probably. It's that time of day. "You're making ... vegetable omelets. Breakfast. In our kitchen."

Guerrero suspects that 'our' is meant to include only Chance and Winston, which is mildly hurtful but understandable. Winston probably still has the receipts for everything that's in here, up to and including the kitchen knife. "Doing great so far, dude."

"With no clothes on."

"Didn't want to wake up Chance." It seemed a considerate, almost normal thing to do at the time.

Winston stares. At Guerrero's face, which does him credit.

"Light sleeper, you know." Winston should, Guerrero thinks. It's been him and Chance and Carmine for long enough now. "Tricky to figure out which clothes are yours in the dark. Not cool to steal his."

Winston opens his mouth. Closes it again. "You're making Chance breakfast in bed?"

Guerrero considers how he'd react if someone were to wake him up while holding a tray with food on it. Granted, he's not Chance, but in some things, they're close enough. "Naw."

"All right. How's this. _I_ will eat some of this ... vegetable omelet. _You_ go put on a ... a shirt or something. There's some in my closet that I think will fit you."

Guerrero wonders if he should point out that, in most trades, you offer to swap something the other party wants for something _you_ want. Basic negotiation technique.

"No, no, don't thank me," Winston says. "Happy to help out a shirtless and pantsless fellow. Fact, why don't I go and get those clothes for you right now, huh? You just ... stay right here."

"Whatever you say, dude." Guerrero's not on a job; he can afford to be nice. Generous, even. Magnanimous in victory.

 

 _"You're not gonna break me, you know,"_ Chance told him, the night before.

It's not the first time Guerrero's heard that particular line, although he's usually not naked when he hears it. (The other party is, often as not. People tend to feel vulnerable, with no clothes on, but then, sometimes Guerrero doesn't feel like making the effort. And sometimes, he knows he doesn't need to.)

 _"How do you know?"_ he asks, instead. _"I mean, seriously, dude. Oldest trick in the book."_

Guerrero's never felt any particular urge to reveal his deepest, darkest secrets for the sake of sex, but possibly, that's just because he's got a very vivid imagination. And, you know, hands.

 _"I guess I trust you,"_ Chance says, grinning. _"You gonna tell me I'm wrong?"_

People have trusted Guerrero before. Often. Usually, they've trusted him _not_ to hurt their nearest and dearest in exchange for their voluntarily and entirely freely given cooperation.

 _"Not right now,"_ Guerrero says. _"Maybe tomorrow."_

 

"This is actually not bad," Winston says, shoveling some more omelet on his plate.

"Thanks, dude."

"Yeah. You're actually a decent cook. Who'd have thought, huh?" Winston chuckles and shakes his head. "Who'd have thought?"

In Guerrero's experience, repeating a question only increases your odds of getting an answer under very specific circumstances. They're not present here, so he opts to make a fresh pot of coffee, instead.

"Who'd have thought what?" Chance asks, walking in, mostly dressed. Wearing Guerrero's shirt.

Winston notices, which is gratifying, Guerrero supposes. Nice to know Winston pays attention.

"Hey, dude. Want some coffee? Sorry - made you some vegetable omelet to go with that, but Winston just ate all of it."

"You said - " Winston sputters.

"Not cool, dude. Really not cool."

"Ah. I'm not hungry, anyway. Coffee sounds great, though," Chance says, picking up a mug.


End file.
